October Thirteenth
by veredgf
Summary: Mulder's Birthday (season one)


_This is a response to txf-prompt-box (tumblr) 10/13 challenge. Prompt: Mulder's Birthday and must be 1,013 words (Mine is, not counting the title and that's based on my word processor… Not easy at all.). Story time frame: mid season one. It's mostly sweet in flavor._

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"So, when's you're birthday?" Agent Scully asked all of a sudden.

Fox Mulder had been busy packing the few items for their stakeout as they were about to leave the 7 Eleven. He was completely caught off guard by her question. "It's funny that you're asking this today of all days. Today's is actually my birthday. I'm guessing somebody tipped you off?" he turned around and glanced at her, trying to see if his hunch was true. He was very good at reading a person's body language, and to his surprise, it seemed her query wasn't based on previous information. It was just pure coincidence.

"No. Nobody tipped me off. If they would have, I would have insisted somebody else take this duty," she told him. "I don't get it. Why would you want to do this today? Don't you want to go out and get drunk with your buddies?"

He let out a sad snort. "This is a lot more fun, don't you think?"

She gazed at him, her face a mixture of pity and compassion. "Mulder?"

 _Yey, me. I'm a heart breaking sob story_ , he cheered miserably in his mind.

"Scully, we've been working together for how long now?"

She looked thoughtful. "About six months give or take."

"Have you ever known me to have a life?"

"Mulder, I assumed you had something. I didn't want to pry."

He wasn't sure he could even respond to her assumption. It was too depressing a thought as it were.

"I'm sorry," she told him as they got out of the convenience store.

He smiled glumly. "What for? It's not like my predicament is any fault of yours."

She didn't respond and he felt somewhat bad for making her feel uncomfortable by his smart-ass retort. Sometimes he wasn't able to get over his bitterness. It wasn't really fair on Scully who had turned out to be the one person who actually did care about him. Ironically she cared for him far more than his parents did. Sometimes he didn't know why Scully hovered over him so much. He was far than an easy person to be with. He constantly made snide comments at her. He enjoyed showing off his smarts and his experience. Even though she proved her worthy to him, he still picked on her re her assignment as a spy, put there to debunk his work on the X-Files. And yet, she clung to him and this job, despite the fact that he was hard on her and the fact that she was also receiving the same treatment he was from the rest of their colleagues.

They got into their rental and proceeded to their target in somber silence, his brooding mood oozing on to her. This was going to be a sad affair of a stakeout, he noted to himself, and it was all thanks to him and his bleak attitude. He sighed, resigning himself to a long night of sullenness. He figured he deserved this. At least he excelled at self-flagellation, but he wasn't quite sure this was something to be proud about.

They arrived at their destination, and for a while they sat in silence, each of them staring out of the car window on their side while taking a great effort to keep their gazes apart, until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Scully?"

"What?" she asked, her gaze still stalking the moonlit street outside.

"The last time I celebrated my birthday was before Samantha was abducted."

Scully turned her head and their gazes met.

"I don't know if it was deliberate or not, but I think that my parents just weren't able to continue with this tradition after Sam was gone. It was a mixture of mourning and guilt. Their mourning. My guilt. It was like an unwritten pact. Nobody said it, but neither of us were able to go back to anything that we'd done before," he revealed. "My birthday was just another day on the calendar. I'd slowly dissolved my connections with my school friends from before, and this just made the dissolution of my birthday festivities a lot easier." He told her, a weary smile flitted across his lips.

Scully's eyes glistened in the moonlight. She didn't speak, but he could tell she was working very hard on holding back the tears that were already welling at the corners of her eyes. Yes. It was a sob story, but he appreciated her just listening and not saying a word. It was enough that she listened.

They continued sitting there in silence for a while. At some point he felt her hand gently touching his, than gradually her light touch turned into a squeeze. He hadn't expected this, but he found her touch comforting. He didn't feel that she was feeling sorry for him. Instead he realized she was just there to offer him her shoulder. She was a friend. A buddy. He was with his buddy on his birthday. It was strange, yet just the way he needed it.

"I'm hungry," she announced when another stakeout hour had passed. "What about you?"

"I could do with some grub, I guess."

"Egg-salad sandwich?" she asked.

"Yeah. That sounds fine."

Scully rummaged through the paper bag that lay between her legs on the floorboard, while he kept his eyes open for anything out of the ordinary outside.

"There you go," she told him. "One non-home-made-egg-salad sandwich."

He turned around, about to grab his late night snack and was surprised at what he saw before him.

A tiny flashlight was stuck inside the 7-Eleven sandwich, as if it were a makeshift candle and it cast a strange light on Scully's smiling face.

He stared at her, confused.

Her smile widened. "Thanks for letting me spend your birthday with you, Mulder."

He didn't know what to say. All he knew was that this was the first birthday in a long time where he felt he had a family to be with. He felt the corners of his lips curl up in response.

Scully's expression mirrored his. "Happy Birthday, Mulder."


End file.
